Not Even Death Can Keep Us Apart
by sincerely-TheBreakfastClub
Summary: This was Supernatural inspired (you'll see why) and I wrote this a while ago. It's entirely in Death's perspective. I hope you like it!


**Death**

The list didn't give me a name. It never did. It gave me the relative location and I had to go from there. The dying person is never hard to find. Call it a gut feeling. This time was. . . different. I broke the rules. I made a choice that might of changed something, might of caused more deaths and more problems, but somehow I don't think it did. In some strange way, I think it was _meant_ to happen. . . but I don't know. My job is to kill the dying and deliver them to my reapers. What happens afterwards is out of my hands.

My finger found the next location on the list. I spoke it clearly in my mind, and was instantly transported there. It was a hospital room, Room 61, and I immediately noticed two people. Two boys. One was in the bed, with needles and tubes and blinking lights sticking out of him every which way. The other was in an uncomfortable-looking chair, head lolling to the side and eyelids heavy with sleep. I could tell right away which one of them was dying, hospital bed and needles aside. The one in the bed looked and smelled like death. Which isn't saying much, because I'm the same way. (Obviously.)

He had limp curls, turned a yellowish-brown in the dim hospital light and pale, sickly skin. His hair was matted against his forehead with a thin layer of sweat, and his eyes were closed. _Good. He's asleep. Most people aren't that lucky._ Light brown freckles dusted his neck and shoulders, and tawny moles under his eyes and on his jaw. He looked pained, even in his slumber, but I could see faint smile lines around his mouth and eyes. He was a happy boy. He had a lot of smiles to share and a lot to be happy about. I could tell.

The boy next to him (maybe a friend or cousin? They didn't look very similar) was also very pale. Paler than the dying boy, surprisingly. Except not really; I knew what he was. But, I wasn't here for him. It didn't matter. The paler boy had shoulder-length ebony hair that hung loosely around his collarbones, and a sharp nose. Thin lips covered what I assumed to be deadly teeth, and his long legs were stretched out in front of him.

I walked over to the bed and took a long look at the dying boy. His breathing was shallow and short, and his pulse was very low. Heart failure. Such a shame. I stepped a little closer; it was time. My hand reached out and my fingers lightly brushed his forehead. I let them rest there for a moment, before pulling away and watching the heart monitor flat line. I turned around, ready to answer the soul's terribly annoying questions, while my reaper led him away. (She was already in the corner, waiting.) I was not met with frantic questions or a shocked face this time. This time, the soul was quiet. Tears were pouring down his cheeks and he was slumped over in defeat. But the weirdest thing was that he wasn't even looking at his body. He was staring at the black-haired boy, still asleep in the chair, while his silent sobs made him tremble and shake.

"I'm sorry. I am. But you're dead, and you need to leave. I'm sorry," I said in a calm, practiced voice. The soul shook his head, and his blue eyes dulled with bitter heartbreak.

"I can't leave him," he cried out in a hoarse whisper. "I can't leave him. Please. I can't."

"I'm sorry," I replied dryly, "but I'm sure your friend will be alright."

"He's not my friend." The boy's voice broke, and giant, grief-stricken sobs escaped his lips while he shuddered in pain.

Oh. They weren't friends. That was clear now. They were more than that. Much more.

"I'm _sorry,_ " I said, a little softer this time. "But it's time to _go._ " I waved my reaper forward, and she laid a hand on the blue-eyed soul's shoulder. He jerked away from her, and tried to touch the dark-haired boy, but his hand went right through. He fell to his knees and started to choke out more words.

"I _love_ him. I love him so, so much, you don't understand. He needs me. _I_ need _him._ I've never loved anything the way I love him. Please. I'll do anything please, please don't make me go. Please."

It was always so hard with lovers. Especially when they were together like this. I nodded towards my reaper, and she lifted him up. He didn't fight back. He just shook and whimpered quietly.

"Please," I had to strain to hear him; his voice was so small. "Let me say goodbye."

I held up a finger. "One minute."

He dragged himself over to the chair and collapsed on the ground beside it, closer to the other boy's head. He put his lips centimeters away from the boy's ear, and breathed words I couldn't make out. The soul tried to kiss the paler boy, but he fell through. I think that's when he broke.

The reaper started to lead the soul away, and I followed. We both stopped, however, when a low growl sounded from behind us.

"Don't. You. _Dare._ "

The tall, paler boy was awake now, and his grey eyes were burning with passion and anger.

" _No._ You don't get to just _leave._ No. I won't let you. You're _mine,_ " The boy seethed with fury as he reached out towards his lover, his face twisting in pain when he realized he couldn't touch him.

He turned to me, then, and started to spit, "I can see you, you sick bastard. You took him away from me. This is all your fault. _Fix it._ "

"I can't," I answered, coolly. "He's dead, and there's nothing anyone can do. I'm sorry."

He didn't like that. Not one little bit. "Yes. You. _Can._ You're fucking Death- yeah I know who you are- so bring. Him. Back."

"I _can't._ I couldn't do it, even if I wanted to. It's against the rule-"

"Then break them." The grey-eyed boy said, forcefully. "Or are you to _weak_?"

"Watch it boy," I hissed. "You don't know who you're dealing with. I can wipe you off the face of this godforsaken planet with the wave of my hand. _Don't_ test me."

Something flashed across the tall boys face. It was brief, and anyone else probably would've missed it, but I've been around for quite awhile. I can read people. He lost. He gave up. He was _done._ But as quick as it came, it was immediately replaced by a cold, stony look. He had decided something, and it didn't look good.

"Then do it."

" _No._ " He wasn't on the list. It wasn't his time. I couldn't do it. No.

His voice cracked and he fell to his knees before me, eyes filled with fresh sadness. " _Please._ He's all I have. I don't have anything else to live for, please, believe me. I love him more than life itself, please, I'm begging you, kill me. Do it. Please."

"No," the golden soul rasped, trying so hard not to fall. "You can't. You can't die. Please, _don't_.

I turned to my reaper, yet her face was impassive. It was up to me, then. I turned back to the dying boy. (He is dying, I see that now.)

"That isn't something that can be changed. There's no going back. Do you understand?"

He nodded his head, once, and continued to look at me while tears streaked down his face.

"Are you sure this is something you want?" I already knew the answer; I just needed him to hear the answer himself.

" _Yes._ " He whispered, so quiet I almost didn't hear him. I stepped forward and brushed two fingers across his temple, letting them linger a bit, before his body slumped to the ground, lifeless and empty. His soul appeared, and he immediately rushed to his lover. Usually, souls couldn't touch or feel another soul; they were too corporeal. But, there were exceptions. This was one of them.

They fell together, crying and smiling and whispering each others names. Their foreheads pressed together and they exchanged breathless words. I couldn't hear them, but they weren't my words to hear. They didn't belong to me. They belonged to the two boys in front of me, glowing and flickering and holding each other so close they might of been one. Their lips met briefly, and they both trembled. My reaper didn't need any instructions; she walked over to the souls and took them gently by their shoulders. They hardly even noticed, because they just kept stumbling forward, clutching onto each other like a lifeline. Even though both of their lives were mine now. They walked out of the room together, bright blue eyes and stormy grey ones, into a fantastic light. The boys disappeared, along with my reaper. But neither of them cared where they were going; they had each other and that's all that mattered.

Like I said, I think it was _meant_ to happen. And I think you agree. Besides, who would ever be foolish enough to argue with Death? Only the idiots and the lovers, I suppose. But sometimes they're one of the same thing. And that's the one thing that _can_ stop me. Not even Death can keep lovers apart.


End file.
